


So Much To Forget

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: GTA Drabbles, One Shots, Outtakes, and AUs [12]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood, Bounty Hunters, Canonical Character Death, Caretaking, Death of a friend, Depression, Drowning, Drugs, Ending B, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grieving, Head Injury, Headaches & Migraines, Illnesses, Loss of Identity, Medical Conditions, Memory Loss, Methamphetamine, Near Death Experiences, Original Character(s), Pneumonia, Rescue, Strangers to Lovers, Temporary Amnesia, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:47:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29101242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: Michael's death was no one's Plan A. And neither was happening to be front seat for a stranger's near-death experience.Trevor manages to save a girl from drowning- the only problem is that she doesn't remember who she is when she wakes up.
Relationships: Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Series: GTA Drabbles, One Shots, Outtakes, and AUs [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/996552
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. A Thousand Things

Whatever possessed him to come out here?  
Maybe he just wanted to see this place again- it was isolated, and he liked that.  
He should’ve settled down in the San Chianski mountains, not Sandy Shores. Nobody out here to say a fucking thing when he wanted silence.  
And while that was usually the case, all he wanted now was someone to talk to.  
Trevor had lost every friend and loved one he had, a week and a half ago.  
Franklin was a traitor. Michael was dead. Patricia wasn’t answering any of his calls or messages. His own mother left as quickly as she came.  
Once again, Trevor was so horribly _alone_.  
_  
Alone_.  
  
The weight in his chest made his shoulders droop, and he slumped forward until his elbows rested on his knees where he was seated on the opened tailgate of his truck. Parked in between the three run-down houses and shitty, decrepit docks that made up Cape Catfish. Staring out at the gently roaring abyss that was the ocean at night.  
He had been duped into helping the FIB steal a chemical weapon from Humane Labs the last time he was here; followed by the painful task of returning Patricia home to her family-  
  
Obnoxious laughter pulled him from the memory, and he glared in the direction it came from. Out toward the right, across the water, a flat-topped hill was now occupied by a group of people. Likely setting up for a party. He could make out the silhouette of a cooler being rolled along the ground by one of the men.  
Young people, he guessed, from Los Santos. City kids loved to come out to the sticks to party- where the cops were far off and it was easier to do coke, drink underage, fuck around, etc.  
He found himself watching them, and even felt relief in his mind going blank in the meantime. A nice distraction, like watching television.  
There were seven people, three men and four women. All so fucking _noisy_.  
Two of the men and one of the women built a bonfire. The others were either standing around and watching or disappeared out of sight- likely to do other setting up.  
He spotted a couple of tents and folding chairs pop up. They were gearing up to camp there.  
He overheard music and realized it was playing out of their car’s open doors.  
Trevor observed them drinking bottles of beer, progressively getting louder and more annoying as time ticked on.  
Dumb fuckin kids.  
This reminded him of the opening scene of a B-rated teen slasher movie.  
Michael would’ve gotten a kick out of that.  
  
Four of them split off in couples after a while- all going into tents.  
Another two decided to walk down the trail to get into the water.  
And one, a single girl, stayed by the fire.  
Trevor had noticed that she was the quietest member of the group, and seemed to split off from the others more than once- not engaging as often in conversation, laughing less. Constantly with a bottle in one hand and a phone in the other.  
Maybe she felt like he did tonight, and only came along to distract herself from something.  
  
It made him feel a little less isolated.  
  
He watched her check her phone and wander away from the fire every so often, seeming to search for a signal.  
Trevor took his phone out of his pocket and saw that there was _one_ singular bar. She must not have been able to retain it if she was trying so hard.  
She soon became all he could really focus on- mostly because she was the only one he could really see now that the moon was obscured by clouds. The glow of the fire kept her in clear view.  
“Rosa! You good!?”  
He watched her head turn to her left, and the two swimmers approached the glow of the fire. Soaking wet in their clothes.  
He saw ‘Rosa’ nod and respond to them, at a normal volume he couldn’t hear from a distance. The other two went to separate tents, likely to call it a night.  
‘Rosa’ stayed by the fire- which was starting to die down.  
How long ago did he start watching?  
  
There was, previously, doubt in Rosa's mind that she and Tracey De Santa were _actually_ friends.   
While they lived in the same world and had similar roles in it, they were much too different to really function together as a ‘friend’ unit.  
Rosa was much more private, aggressive, and had the tendency to fight anyone to _mention_ the world her family came from because it was something she wanted no part of.  
Tracey, on the other hand: upbeat, trendy, popular, constantly seeking attention to show everyone how upbeat, trendy, and popular she was. They were polar opposites, and their bond was cemented in a mutual appreciation for drugs and alcohol to numb their mutual depressive disorders.  
Or at least that was what Rosa believed until a week and a half ago when Mr. De Santa was found dead at the Palmer-Taylor power plant. Having, apparently, fallen from a high platform.  
Since then, Amanda had all but silenced. She no longer tried to live glamorously, instead retreating into herself; now reclusive, and weepy at the drop of a hat. Jimmy _tried_ to live life normally from what Rosa had seen- but had overheard him lashing out at strangers online during his gaming sessions, sometimes quitting his games before they even loaded, hitting the bong much more often, sniffling and muttering to himself just loud enough to be audible through his bedroom door.  
And Tracey simply couldn't stop crying.  
  
Mr. De Santa wasn’t a good husband or father. He was distant, and Tracey said she often saw the disappointment in his gaze when he looked at her.  
But he was her dad. She wanted him to love her like he did when she was little.  
And now that he was gone, that old love could _never_ come back.  
  
She had never experienced this kind of loss before and needed a friend- and Rosa was proclaimed to be her _best_ friend.  
Rosa had never before felt so guilty for assuming a friendship was shallow.  
From then on, she swore to be available for Tracey, her only true friend, at any time of the day or night.  
The lack of signal out here was making that difficult.  
“C’mon, fucker,” Rosa muttered under her breath and watched her phone search for the weak signal so she could answer the last text.  
This trip was in the works for a month- and Tracey insisted that Rosa went even if she couldn't join them. She said she felt guilty for keeping Rosa on call 24/7, and told her to go have some fun.   
But Rosa wasn't having a particularly great time. This group of friends was _okay,_ but she just wasn’t as down to party as she would've been if circumstances were different.  
Whose dumbass idea was it to come all the way out here where there wasn't a fucking signal? What if there was an emergency?  
Rosa huffed and stood up from the camping chair she'd brought. Maybe if she walked around a little, she'd get a signal again. It worked a few times tonight.   
It'd been _hours_ since they got here, and she spent the whole time drinking and seeking out reception.  
Now with everyone else too drunk to carry on, or having retired early to bone in their tents, Rosa was the last one left awake, and it was well after two in the morning.  
And she was tired. This cheap beer wasn’t doing enough for her to want to stay up to even finish it- and it was still her first drink of the night.  
She planned on going to bed after sending a good night message to Tracey. If it would just-  
The smallest signal bar appeared at the top corner of the screen, and her good night message was sent. She waited a few seconds and received a speedy reply.  
Good, she found the sweet spot- closer toward the ledge.   
She needed to be careful out that far, though- wouldn't want to fall. The water down below was easily a twenty-foot drop, and _that_ would be the easy part of falling, given that there were likely rocks at the bottom.  
  
She put her phone into the back pocket of her shorts and headed back to the fire, first making a quick stop at her tent to put her wallet into her backpack.  
They didn't bring an extinguisher- which was stupid, given that they literally planned this for a whole month. And no one thought to bring a way to put out the fire. Ugh.   
Nice group of people, most of them very attractive, none very smart.  
Rosa decided to improvise.  
With only three beers left in this cooler, she took them out to move them to the second cooler in the trunk of the car.  
And because the host of this party was the biggest dumbass of all, there wasn't even any ice in the coolers- just ice _packs,_ because she thought they would last much longer than actual ice.   
So she had the idea to fill the cooler with seawater.  
  
Was it creepy and voyeuristic to watch a girl from a distance?   
Yeah, but his excuse was that this wasn't sexual in any way. He was just observing.  
She was, after all, the only one still up and about. And this welcomed distraction of watching had helped him temporarily shove down thoughts about the last few weeks. It wasn't hurting anyone, so why _not_ watch?  
'Rosa' wheeled the empty cooler away from the fire, and momentarily disappeared from view when she was making her way down the dark path toward the bottom of the hill.  
When he could see her again, it was only because she had taken out her phone to use as a flashlight while she walked toward the water.   
The waves were becoming larger and rougher now that the wind was starting to pick up, and she stopped in the ankle-deep water to seem to admire them.   
  
"Man. These fuckin’ waves…" Rosa left her shoes in the sand to step into the tide.  
The sea was getting _rough_ now that it was windy- she had to hope her tent wouldn’t blow away before she got back to weigh it down.  
It was a good thing the others weren't still swimming in this.  
Did nobody look at the forecast before they left Los Santos?  
She was only standing in a few inches of the cold water, but still felt the strong pull of when the water receded between pushing further and further into the shore.  
She loved the ocean. Especially how nighttime made it look like an endless void.  
She made note to set an early alarm so she could watch the sun come up over the water in a few hours.  
She bent to fill the cooler with seawater-  
And the force of the receding tide ripped it from her grip and quickly swept it out of reach.  
“Shit, shit, shit, shit-” she rushed after it, the water soon reaching thigh height and wetting the hemline of her shorts. The further in she went, the slower she had to go to not be thrown off her feet by the waves. She was waist-deep by the time she was able to grab onto the rim of the cooler, holding her phone up away from the water with her other hand.  
Until a wave smacked up against her body and shoved her over- her phone knocked out of her hand as she caught herself.  
“ _Shit- Fuck, that’s fucking cold!_ ” She hissed, standing upright again and pulling her wet hair behind her shoulders- trying to find her phone in the water. The flashlight was still on, and she needed it to safely get back up to the campsite-  
Another wave, larger than the last, swept her off her feet and she fell with a yelp into the shallow water. The shock of cold forced the air out of her lungs and made her seize up, and her vision blackened when her head hit something hard on the ground. She involuntarily sucked water into her lungs, struggled against the current, lost track of which direction was up, and then…  
Nothing.  
  
“ _Oohhhh_ , and she’s _down!_ ” Trevor winced and managed a chuckle when he watched the girl get shoved over by the water. She’d dropped her light in the last one. Now she was---  
She wasn’t getting up...  
He watched the cooler float away with the current. The girl still hadn’t resurfaced.  
  
… Oh, _shit…_  
  
He could just drive away and pretend he didn’t see a fucking thing. Nobody would’ve ever known the difference.  
She was some dumb, drunk stranger- who gave a shit if she drowned because she was too stupid to swim? Shouldn’t have gotten into the ocean during rough seas, then.  
Trevor realized he was anxiously tapping his hand on his knee. Waiting for her to get up.  
Only a few seconds had passed, but...  
His conscience told him he couldn’t just leave her there.  
“Guess it’s your lucky day, dumbass,” he muttered under his breath and hopped off the truck to bolt down the rickety pier.  
He jumped into the water, and the sudden drop in temperature was an unpleasant shock to his system- but he pressed on toward where he’d last seen her above the surface.  
She may have been dragged further out by the current, so he moved that way. Scanning the surface.  
The cooler was long gone- but he saw something dark floating a little ways out.  
“You better not fucking be dead,” Trevor huffed and rushed outward. “Better not be any sharks out here either.”  
A wave enveloped her, and then him shortly after. He struggled against the force of it and brought himself back to the surface- where he saw her shape floating again close by.  
He managed to grab her by her shirt and pull her closer and hold tight around her torso. She was cold, but he wasn’t ready to assume she was dead yet.   
A wave pushed them both under again, and Trevor’s foot reached the sandy floor- and he used that to push back up to the surface where he gasped for air, forcing his body to move them toward the shore.   
When they reached a shallower point, the waves at their backs pushed them forward toward the packed down sand of the beach- where he dragged the girl's limp body toward safety and laid her out on the ground.  
He was exhausted. Out of breath and wanting to retch at the foul taste of seawater in his mouth.   
But he wanted to check her out before he could rest.   
He pulled her wet hair off of her face.  
She wasn't breathing, but she had a pulse.  
He shook his head and pressed his mouth to hers to force air into her lungs.  
She twitched and he backed up, pulling her shoulder to turn her onto her side- where she immediately vomited up water and coughed. Shivering all the while. Gasping for air. Body weakly writhing against the ground for a minute or so before curling up into a shaking ball.   
Trevor tried to shake her. "Wake up, kid. You're not fucking dead yet."  
Her eyes were closed, and she wasn't responsive beyond a pathetic whimper or two- but she was shaking like a leaf.  
The sand under her head looked black in the darkness- blood. She was bleeding.  
She needed a medic- and he guessed her friends wouldn’t be useful, being drunk and asleep.   
"Shit. C’mon," Trevor muttered under his breath and draped her arm over her middle, picking her up bridal style to carry her to his truck. Not knowing what else to do with her.  
He put her in the back, so she could stay lying down. Shaking. Soaked and chilled to the bone in her unconscious state. Pitiful as a three-legged puppy.  
He actually felt sorry for her.   
He picked up his phone from where he'd left it lying on the tailgate, and used the flashlight to look closer at her.   
She was paled by the cold, now that he could see her. Definitely young, likely in her late teens or early twenties. Lips tinted blue from nearly drowning. Makeup smudged around her eyes from getting wet.  
He lifted her eyelids to shine the light on her- and her pupils dilated. He recognized that as a good sign.  
She would live from whatever happened to her head- but the cold would get to her if he didn't help her.   
Since it looked like no one else could, he had to be the one to do it.   
He moved for the passenger side of the truck and grabbed the denim jacket he'd left in the seat to drape over her. It wasn't much, but it would keep her from freezing for a while longer.  
He closed the tailgate of the Bodhi, taking one last glance at the shivering girl before getting into the driver’s seat and going.  
  
Cold.  
So fucking cold.  
Her entire body tense and achy- especially her head.  
Her lungs burned.  
She was so tired. And only awake enough to open her eyes for a second or two at a time before her heavy lids closed again and she dozed off for an unknown amount of time.  
Every time she could see anything, it was only the sky. Dark. Starry. Beautiful.  
She coughed every time she was conscious, aware of her own wheezing breaths in the interim as she faded in and out.  
“- still alive back there?”  
She wasn’t coherent enough to respond- or even be aware that someone was talking to her.  
She was just so cold.  
And so sore.  
And so, so tired…  
  
She coughed herself awake again, and her surroundings were entirely different.  
She was aware now that she’d stopped shivering, and was warm.  
Her eyes cracked open just enough to see that she was in a bed. Wrapped in layers upon layers of blankets. The topmost one was radiating heat- electric, from what she guessed. It was nice-- or it would’ve been if her head didn’t hurt so much.  
Her eyes opened further, and she winced against the light.  
Sunshine peeking in through the sheer curtains on a window across the room.  
And speaking of- where the fuck was she? She didn’t recognize this room. It was shabby and dated… Like a house that belonged to someone _geriatric,_ for lack of better description _._ Dirty green carpeting, wooden paneled walls, a dusty ceiling fan overhead.  
Her head turned to the side, and she saw an open medical kit on the bedside table- and noted the roll of gauze in particular.  
She sluggishly raised a hand to her head and felt some of the gauze roll wrapped over her hair.

What happened?  
She became aware of a vintage wall clock ticking away on an adjacent wall. A little after nine in the morning.  
“-awake yet?”  
“I’ll check on her. Go get her clothes off the line for me.” Seconds later, the flimsy bedroom door creaked open and a heavyset older woman came in carrying a bottle of pills and a glass of water. “Mornin’, sunshine,” she greeted when she saw the girl’s eyes were open. “How you feelin’?”  
The girl noted that the woman spoke slowly, with a southern drawl. She opened her mouth to reply, and her throat was too dry for her voice to come out with the words- having to rasp “my head hurts”.  
“I would think so after the nasty fall you must’ve had,” the woman came closer and set the water on the nightstand, opening the pill bottle and shaking a couple of them onto her cupped hand before offering them. “Take these.”  
“What are they?” The girl asked, letting the tablets fall into her trembling palm.  
“Ibuprofen,” The woman answered. “For the pain. And if you got a fever.” She pressed the back of her hand to the girl’s forehead with one hand, and passed her the glass with the other.   
The girl tossed the pills into her mouth and immediately drained the entire glass of water.  
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” The woman examined the wrappings around the girl’s head.  
The girl hesitated, having to think about it. “It’s… I don’t know. I don’t know, I’m-.”  
Why couldn’t she remember? It was such a simple question but she didn’t know the answer in the slightest.  
The woman paused to look at the girl’s face. “You don’t remember?”  
“No… What happened…? And- where is this and… everything?” She couldn’t remember a single thing. Her name, how old she was, where she came from- not even what her own face looked like.  
“Name’s Maude, sweetheart. You’re in Sandy Shores..” The woman resumed her examination, touching a sore spot that made the girl wince. “From what I understand, you fell, hit your head, nearly drowned.”  
The girl couldn’t remember any of that. She couldn’t recall anything except for the constant, splitting headache and a glimpse or two of the night sky. “Is that why I keep coughing?”  
“You had water in your lungs,” Maude replied. “Might be gettin’ a touch of pneumonia. Thank God you got here when you did. Almost lost you to the cold.”  
"How'd I get here?” She slowly sat upright, scooting up until her back was against the headboard.  
She heard heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom door, and it creaked open for a tall middle-aged man to walk in carrying a set of clothes.  
“Trevor here found you,” Maude told her. “He saw you fall and jumped in after you.”  
  
Trevor dropped the clothes at the foot of the bed, and Rosa gave him a surveying look. Unsure of what to make of him, like anyone who first met him.  
"Thank you," she said. Sincerity in her tone along with uncertainty.   
His wasn't the face of a knight in shining armor, he knew that.  
She was cute, now that he could see her better- and now that she didn’t look like a pale, drowned rat. Though she was definitely drowning in the oversized shirt Maude had put her in while her clothes dried.  
“Are those mine?” She asked, noting the clothes.  
“Yeah.”  
Rosa narrowed her eyes at him. “ _You_ didn’t undress me, did you….?”  
“That was me, darlin'. Had to put you in somethin’ dry while your clothes were in the wash,'' Maude assured. "There wasn't any funny business."  
“Right-” Rosa frowned and looked back at him with remorse in her dark brown eyes. “Sorry, I’m not- I’m not at a hundred percent… Trevor, was it?”  
“Uh-huh,” Trevor nodded. “And you’re Rosa?”  
She didn't seem to know. “Did I have a wallet or something?” She asked.  
"Nope," Trevor told her. He went back out to Cape Catfish earlier that morning to try to find her friends so he could return her to them, but they had gone already. Likely having searched for her and given up.   
That left getting home entirely up to her.  
"She said she doesn't remember her name," Maude said. "She doesn't remember anythin' that happened."  
That would complicate getting her back.   
No identification, no memories, no one to contact.  
News from wherever she came from would only have her name in the paper for a few days at most- before there were _new_ headlines to replace it.  
Maude couldn’t even use her connections with the bail bonds network to find this girl’s identity without a full name to go off of.  
She was just 'Rosa', the drowning victim he saved on a whim.  
How do you piece someone’s life together with just that?  
  
How would she get home if she couldn't remember a home?   
Maude said they were in Sandy Shores, so… This was San Andreas? Was she even _from_ this state?  
Was anyone looking for her?  
"Uh- thanks for taking care of me," Rosa said, leaning forward to pull her dry clothes closer. The oversized shirt she had on hung loosely off her frame, and she felt like a small child in their parents’ clothes. "I don't know what to do from here. Do I need a hospital?"  
"You might, what with that head injury," Maude said. "I stitched you up best I could. You seem alright, don’t think you got brain damage. Closest hospital’s several hours away. Had to get you taken care of _quick._ "  
“Right,” Rosa nodded and examined her clothes. Did she really wear these? She wasn’t sure if she liked them now.  
She was a little unhappy with the thought that these two strangers had handled her undergarments while she was unconscious. But they didn’t seem like bad people if they helped her.  
Her stomach growled, and she folded her arms over her middle to muffle the sound.  
“I’ll fix you somethin’ to eat,” Maude said and headed out of the room.  
Trevor lingered. “How’s the head?”  
“Miserable,” she replied. “Better than being dead, though. Right?”  
“And you don’t remember anything?”  
She shook her head. “Just little glances of the sky.”  
“Good old amnesia, huh?” He seemed to try to make light of the situation. “I dunno how anyone forgets nearly dying.”  
Rosa shrugged. “Well, you forget a thousand things every day. At least a near-death experience is something nobody would _want_ to remember, right?”  
His expression dropped, and his brows furrowed as he looked more closely at her. “Right..."  
He turned and left without another word.  
Was it something she said?


	2. Being Needed

Rosa was dizzy when she got up to dress herself a little while later.   
The headache still hadn’t subsided, despite the pills Maude had given her.   
But she was mobile, so she must not have broken any bones. A thin silver lining.    
How did any of this even happen? What was she doing near the water that made her hit her head? Was she alone at the time?    
Is that why only Trevor was there to help her?   
  
She thought as far back as she could while she put her own clothes on. They at least  _ fit _ properly, but she would’ve liked if the shirt was a thicker material. It was just a paper thin black tank top.    
All she could really recall was being cold and in pain. And thinking so hard was just adding to the headache.   
She looked around the sides of the bed for a pair of shoes- but found none. Maybe hers got lost in transit.   
She had to sit down after that, on the edge of the bed with her head between her knees. Dizzy again. And coughed, which only made the throbbing in her skull worse. What if she did have pneumonia? Wouldn’t she need antibiotics?   
When would that go away? Probably around the time the headache would. The cut must’ve been bad if Maude had to  _ stitch  _ her. She wanted to get a look at it sooner or later.   
A knock on the door, then Maude entered carrying a plate of food. “Made you some breakfast. Hope it’s somethin’ you like.”   
“It smells good,” Rosa told her and took the plate. “Thank you.”   
Bacon, eggs, some toast, and some… unidentifiable mush. She guessed it was grits?    
She tasted that first. She kinda liked it.    
Before she knew it, she was tearing through the food on the plate- manners be damned.   
Just having something in her stomach made everything better.   
“Glad you got an appetite,” Maude noted. “I’d’ve made more if I knew beforehand.”   
“Nono, this is perfect, thank you so much,” Rosa replied between bites. “I can handle any dishes if you want me to...” The initial ravenous hunger wore off, and she slowed down. She had more questions to ask. “Did we know each other before I forgot everything?”   
“Can’t say we did,” Maude moved closer to survey the bandages around Rosa’s head. Likely making sure she hadn’t bled through them. How serious was the cut, then? “Trevor might’ve known you. You can ask him when he’s next over.”   
“Where’d he go?” Rosa asked.   
“I told him to get you some antibiotics.”   
Rosa touched the bandages around her head. “Do you think I can take a shower? Can I get the stitches wet?   
“Let me check it first, darlin’.”   
Rosa sat still while Maude unwrapped the gauze, blood had soaked through several layers of wrapping, but didn’t seem to seep all the way through. She winced when Maude moved her hair to get a better look.   
“Bleedin’s stopped,” Maude noted. “Should be okay if you don’t scrub it.”   
“Awesome,” Rosa replied through gritted teeth. She didn’t think she’d wash her hair this time if it meant having to touch her scalp- especially when she thought about how much soap would  _ burn _ .    
  
She recognized right away, just from looking down at her hands, that her skin was darker than Maude’s and Trevor’s.    
Looking in the bathroom mirror for the first time was a surprise regardless.    
She didn’t want to be egotistical, but she had to admit that  _ was  _ kinda pretty.    
She couldn’t identify where from exactly, but she was definitely of Hispanic descent.    
Long, wavy black hair. Dark brown eyes and long lashes. Full lips. Thick, curved eyebrows. High cheekbones.   
She couldn’t find any tattoos or identifying marks. Her ears were pierced, but she didn’t have earrings in.  
  
She wanted to see the stitches.  
  
She carefully moved her hair around where her head hurt most. Head awkwardly angled in front of the mirror. She noticed deep purple bruising on the side of her head- and found where the roots of her hair were mottled with dry blood. She saw white threads embedded into her skin. Stained pink, but she could tell that they were once white.  
"...  _ Floss? _ " Did Maude stitch her up with  _ dental floss?   
_ Encrusted with dry blood, scabbed over at several pinpoints where they penetrated the skin. Seemingly haphazard in pattern, but definitely holding the skin together well enough that the bleeding had stopped.  
She didn't want to think about how much blood there was before the stitches were in.  
She let her hair drop into place again    
She stared at her face once more, leaning over the sink to look closer, turning her head in every direction to see herself from different angles. None of them sparked any recognition.   
“And just who, the fuck, are  _ you _ , Rosa?” She asked her reflection, knowing she would get no answer.   
With that, she stepped back from the mirror and started the shower. The water took some time to get hot, but when she saw steam she stepped back to undress again.    
Still in front of the mirror, she turned to examine her body for any tattoos or piercings she might’ve missed.    
She spotted two overlapping triangles on her upper back, low enough to be hidden by the neckline of any shirt, but high enough to be noticeable.    
She could confirm now that she was at least eighteen. But it wasn’t a lot to go on.   
Well… It was something. Maybe a missing person’s ad would mention it.   
  
She stepped under the spray, and felt tears spring to her eyes when the hot water stung her head wound. She couldn’t  _ wash  _ it, but she could at least let the water spray over her and rinse away the blood and remnants of saltwater.    
“Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck- _ She hissed and fought the reflexive movement to put her hand over the stitches to nurse the wound, setting her palms against the wall of the shower and willing them to stay. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she sucked in a sharp breath between gritted teeth, fingers curling on the PVC.    
She cracked one of her eyes open to watch the water circling the drain.   
Pink with her blood.   
She put her same clothes back on when she was done. Miserable from the lingering headache and stinging wound, but relieved that she at least got the crusted blood out of her hair.    
Still dizzy. How long would this last?   
  
The rest of the trailer was just as dated as the bedroom and bathroom. Dusty and shabby, though Rosa didn’t dislike it. It was lived-in, and it’s not like she could confidently say she came from somewhere high-class.   
Who knows- maybe she lived somewhere just like this.   
And with who? A mom and dad? Brothers? Sisters? _Alone?_   
Rosa wondered this while she did the dishes as promised. Maude was seated nearby on an old, floral patterned couch, watching the local news for any reports of missing persons.   
“How long do you think it’ll take for me to get home?” She asked. “Given that I don’t know anything.”   
“Hard to say,” Maude replied. “Could be today, could be next week. Depends on if you remember anythin’, or if anyone recognizes you, or if we find reports of you on the news or in papers.”   
“That’s a lot of ‘if’s,” Rosa said, and set down the plate she was scrubbing when a terrible thought came to mind. “What if  _ nobody  _ finds me? What if I never remember?”   
“That’s a lotta ‘if’s too.”   
If those 'if's came to be, would she have to just start her life over?  
“I don’t even have a place to live if I don’t figure anything out,” Rosa realized this, and the pit of her stomach was alive with anxiety. She resumed cleaning to try to distract herself. “Ugh, I have to figure out how to get a  _ job _ without any identification.”   
“Well…” Maude began, seeming to hesitate. She looked over at Rosa and sized her up. “I can get you work. But it might be a lot to ask someone without a lotta muscle.”   
Rosa glanced at her. “I think I can manage. What is it?”   
  
Maude’s time as an EMT back in the day left her knowledgeable on a lot of things- medications included.   
The disadvantage to living in Sandy Shores was the distance to the nearest  _ decent _ medical center. The one here was garbage. More people died after visiting there than if they’d tried to treat themselves.    
So bringing Rosa there had looked like the less appealing option when she needed urgent attention.   
It still wasn’t an appealing option now that Maude told him to fetch some pills for her. Plus he knew a better place with a more ‘cooperative’ pharmacist.   
  
The local vet’s office was closed for appointments today, but there was someone at the desk in case of emergencies. And luckily for Trevor, he was a loyal friend with access to the drugs.   
Trevor rapped on the dusty glass door with the back of his hand, and was allowed inside seconds later by the vet tech on duty.   
“Hey Trevor, long time no see.”   
“Gooood mornin’, Chef,” Trevor beamed and followed him back toward the pharmacy- as was custom. This time finally noticing the nametag on his scrubs “How’s life been treating you? I didn’t know your name was Travis.”   
“Yeah, that’s me. Things’ve been real quiet since you left for Los Santos,” Chef replied, fishing a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the pharmacy for them. He stepped aside and allowed Trevor in first before following. “Didn’t know you were back in town. Whaddya need?”   
“Got an ‘animal’ with a little case of pneumonia,” Trevor replied and eyed the cabinets of medications. “Figured I’d get her some help, be a real shame to lose something I worked so hard to keep from drowning.”   
“Antibiotics,” Chef nodded, and opened a cabinet to pick out a bottle of pills. He poured some onto the countertop and started to count them out in twos. “What’s her immune system like?”   
“Good, if I had to guess,” Trevor replied. “Young and healthy looking.”   
“How bad of an infection?”   
“Nothin’ serious yet, just starting to come on.”   
“She got any allergies?”   
“ _ Idon’tfuckingknow, _ Chef. ”   
“Gooooooot it,” Chef replied and scooped the separated pills into a smaller orange bottle. “Give her one, twice a day until you run out. She should be fine.”   
Trevor took the bottle and shook it. About a dozen pills inside. “This enough?”   
“Should be,” Chef replaced the larger bottle into the cabinet. “Must be a good ‘animal’ if you’re trying so hard to keep her alive.”   
“Yeah we’ll see,” Trevor put the ‘prescribed’ pills in his pocket.    
Of course he wouldn’t normally give a shit about some random idiot kid nearly killing herself. But something about her was  _ off _ if she could belt out Michael’s stupid movie quote just by chance, especially this soon after his death.   
  
He wondered about that when he pulled up to Maude's trailer again. Rosa was outside, sitting on the patio furniture and petting one of the stray cats that took notice of her. Maude fed them regularly, so they became friendly to anyone who would pay them attention.   
She picked up a kitten while he was parking, and gave him a quick wave when she noticed him.   
He spotted a thin, crooked smile that made his stomach turn to knots. The look was so alien to him that it seemed like a mistake on her part.    
Her smile widened when her attention went back to the tiny, mewling cat clawing its way up the front of her shirt.   
“Look at this guy, he’s obsessed with me,” she said when Trevor approached on foot. “I’ve been out here half an hour and he won’t leave me alone.”   
Trevor recognized that particular orange kitten. It had a white spot on its throat, didn’t really approach anyone but Maude-- and it took a liking to Rosa in a matter of minutes.   
“Don’t get attached, coyotes usually get to ‘em if traffic doesn’t,” Trevor warned and fished the pill bottle out of his pants pocket. “Here.”   
“Aw, don’t tell me  _ that… _ ” Rosa pulled the kitten off of her shirt and set it on her lap, where it resumed trying to climb her shirt. She turned the pill bottle in her hand after taking it, and jiggled it to hear its contents rattle. He could tell she knew they weren’t legal. She must not have cared since they were for her own health. “Thanks for these. You didn’t have to do that for me.”   
“Yeah, well…” God, the look she gave him was killing him. As if she already knew and liked him. Being the one to receive it was like being under a spotlight. “Felt right...” He would do anything to stop feeling like a deer in headlights. “You remember anything yet?”   
She shook her head. “Not a thing.” She took the little cat off her shirt again, put it in her lap, and scratched the under its chin. It tilted its head upward, eyes closing, to enjoy the affectionate touch. “Maude’s letting me stick around until we figure it out.”   
“For free?”   
“Not exactly,” She set the kitten down on the ground and it sat under her chair. “She wants me to help her with some business. She told me to ask  _ you _ for help.”   
  
Trevor could remember a few months ago when Maude said she was retiring from the bounty hunting business. She wanted a husband, a dog, a nice house-- but she must’ve missed the rush that came with delivering justice to degenerates who wouldn’t pay back their bail money.    
Trevor kinda missed it too. Being able to just  _ deck _ somebody and have it be entirely justified.   
Maude ended up getting back into work. And Trevor decided, upon Rosa’s request, that he wanted to help-- given that she was as intimidating as the stray cats she played with. He didn’t save her life for her to get killed by some idiot who didn’t want to pay their dues.   
  
Two weeks after she’d woken up, her coughing was finally done, her pain and dizziness had subsided, and the antibiotics did their job to keep her well. Now she was healthy (enough) and fit for duty.   
Maude had even loaned her some money to get a pair of shoes- since she'd lost her own on the beach.    
“How many times have you done this?” She tried to strike up a conversation, having grown bored with sitting quietly in the passenger seat of his truck. She adjusted the laces of her second hand sneakers, tucking the laces in so they wouldn't come undone.   
“Lots,” Trevor replied, staring out across the bridge at the Grapeseed Farmers Market. He’d parked in the LTD gas station’s lot.    
“Is it always this slow paced?”    
“It is now that I gotta keep  _ you _ from getting killed.”  
"Y’know- you don't have to try  _ that  _ hard. I'm not one of those too-stupid-to-survive people. I don’t think I was  _ before _ either."  
"Look, you were going after a plastic cooler in high tide when I found you. I've trod in  _ shits _ with more brains than you."  
To his surprise, Rosa tittered at that.   
His ears felt hot. " _ What? _ "  
"It’s just-- I know I  _ should  _ be offended but, like- it was funny."  
Her smile only fucked him up again.  
Trevor turned his head away, indignant, trying to hide that the corner of his mouth rose just  _ slightly  _ in discomfort. It was weird that she was so good natured around him- nobody her age with her looks ever was.    
Hell, if it weren’t for the amnesia, she probably would’ve been the type of person to turn her nose up at him. Not knowing herself meant the only impression of him she had was that he saved her life. And she seemed to decide that it was enough to not be intimidated by him in spite of his rough appearance.   
It made him feel  _ weird _ inside. Disarmed.   
“Oh! Is that him?” She suddenly asked.   
Trevor turned back toward the storefront to see a man exiting. Mid-twenties, dressed like a broke hipster with a shitty handlebar mustache and everything. Carrying a burlap grocery bag. He stopped beside the doors of the market when he took his phone out of his pocket to answer a call then and there.   
Trevor took a second to glance at the mugshot on his phone. “Yeah, that’s him alright." He got out of the truck, and before she could reach for the handle on the passenger side- “Stay here.”   
“What- _ No! _ ” She got out and waited for him to circle the rear so she could follow him. “I’m not gonna sit here all useless. Maude’s probably gonna ask me to do this more than once so I wanna know what to expect.”   
Trevor gave her a side-eyed look as they walked side-by-side. “Fine, just don’t get killed.”   
“Should be easy with you here,” she said, and it threw him off again.  
Why was she so fucking  _ casual  _ with him? She had no idea who she was talking to.    
Most people could practically smell the violence on him and she seemed blind to it.   
  
Trevor didn’t have anything to say in reply, and Rosa didn’t think anything of it, focused on their mark as they approached. Sizing him up.   
He wasn’t particularly tall- close to her own height. Late twenties, if she had to guess.   
The handlebar mustache and visible man-bun were  _ terrible _ style choices.    
Skinny, like he’d never eaten anything in his life. He looked like he’d blow over with a gust of wind. And his clothes were skinny too. Jeans that looked practically painted on and a button up shirt that would’ve looked better on someone with some muscle to show off.   
“Well  _ helllllooooo _ ,” Trevor announced their approach, and got their mark to notice them. “You’re  _ Alan _ , right?”  
" _Alain_ ," he corrected. "Is there something you need or can I talk on the phone?"  
"Well-" Trevor said. "We need you to come take a ride with us-"  
The hipster, ‘Alan’, quickly connected the dots. “Oh- shit--!” He took off running, heading behind the farmer’s market to escape.   
“ _Well?_ ” Trevor gestured for Rosa to follow. “Go get him.”   
“' _ Go get him?' _ ” She blinked. “By myself?”  
  
Trevor gave her an exaggerated, patronizing nod, as if it were something so obvious. “Gotta see if you’re cut out for this. Hurry the fuck up, he’s gonna get away. No rules in how you get him, just shoot for bringing him in  _ alive. _ ”   
“I--  _ Goddamnit! _ ” She barely had time to grouse before she hauled ass after the mark. Disappearing twice as quickly as he had.   
“Shit, she’s fucking  _ fast _ ,” Trevor murmured, mildly impressed. She might be useful after all.   
He followed at a light pace- surprised to see that Rosa was quickly catching up to their mark.   
Even more surprised when she tackled him clumsily to the ground.   
Well- at least she was motivated. And she  _ did _ get him. Not bad.   
  
“You got the wrong guy!” ‘Alain’ whined, trying to lift his head off the ground. Trying to throw Rosa off of his back, but she proved to be stronger. Not to mention, this position she had him in left him at a disadvantage. She managed to keep one of his arms behind his back, and he wasn’t able to lift himself with just  _ one _ thanks to her weight on him.    
“Oh, well  _ hey, _ ” Trevor mockingly greeted their mark, strolling up with his hands in his pockets. “You know, it’s pretty rude to run off when someone’s trying to talk to you. Good thing my little lady friend here caught up to you and stopped you so  _ nicely _ ; because if  _ I _ had to be the one to chase you, that stupid fucking man-bun of yours would be cut off and shoved into your mouth like a ball gag.  _ I can’t fucking stand hipsters. _ ”   
“Sounds like you should probably just come with us and get it all over with,” Tommie told the mark, getting up off of him, ready to give chase again if he decided to make the stupid decision to run. “Alan, was it?”    
He shakily stood up in compliance, defeated. And definitely intimidated by both of his captors. Spineless. “It’s  _ Alain- _ ”   
“Don’t care.” Trevor grabbed him tightly by the back of hs neck and proceeded to forcibly lead him along.    
Back to the truck, where Rosa surrendered the passenger seat to make sure ‘Alain’ didn’t try to bail.    
She rode in the bed of the truck, holding onto the roll cage in lieu of a seatbelt.   
Trevor stole glances at her in the rearview while he drove.   
She had freed a hand to keep her hair from whipping around in the wind, and she kept her eyes on the passing landscape. A satisfied look on her face, like she knew she’d done well.   
And, strangely, he liked to see it. She wasn’t as helpless as he’d previously thought.   
  
They pulled up to Maude’s trailer and dropped off their hipster captive.    
He would be brought back to court, and then jail shortly after.   
Maude paid Trevor and Rosa for their services.  
After payment, Maude went inside the trailer to contact the cops and hand 'Alain' over.  
Rosa stayed outside and counted out her money.   
Even though it was reduced for the money she owed Maude for the shoes and for room and board, she seemed satisfied with the money nonetheless.   
Trevor watched her count out her cash and put it in her pocket.    
“So- how’d I do?” She asked.    
“Not bad for a first timer,” Trevor idly answered, pocketing his own stack of cash. Intending to spend it on whatever would fill his time until the next time Maude offered him money.   
“Good enough to go as a team again?”   
She surprised him again- seeming to have an endless energy to be productive.  _ And _ to willingly ask him if he’d accompany her again.   
She was pretty, naive, and probably had things handed to her all her life because of her looks.    
But she was surprisingly capable. She didn’t require much direction from him to get this job done. Realistically, he could tell her to do it on her own from then on- but who was to say future jobs would go as quick or as easily?    
She needed him with her, and he knew that.    
“Sure,” Trevor shrugged. “Guess we’re a team now.”   
Being needed.   
What a weird feeling.   



End file.
